


If At First Things Don't Work Out...

by Selenay



Series: Courting for Dummies [10]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Cabin Fic, Curses, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did your contact talk to you?" Clint asked. "As in, did you hear his voice when he was setting up the meet?"</p><p>Phil started to see where the questions were going and he sighed. "No, the arrangements were made through other means. You think Natasha faked it to get me up here?"</p><p>"You think there's any chance she didn't?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	If At First Things Don't Work Out...

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last fic in this series, so I have to say thank you to everyone who has read and commented and encouraged me. Thank you, it's been a lot of fun writing this and I hope you've all enjoyed it.

Sometimes when Phil needed reassurance that there were good things in the world, because he'd spent too much time surround by rubble and pain, the best way to remember was to get out of the city and just drive.

It was a beautiful day for driving and Phil could almost forget that this wasn't just a pleasure trip for a while. He rolled down the windows of his car and let the smell of pine trees and greenness seep in. He was miles out of the city and the stress of the last couple of weeks seemed to melt away as he drove even though this was technically wasn't a leisure trip.

The bright sunshine and beautiful landscapes made it feel less like work and more like fun. It was the first time he'd actually felt like himself since that afternoon in the coffee shop with Clint.

Nothing about the last two weeks had been easy, but not in the ways Phil had expected. He'd anticipated that working with Clint would hurt like hell, not hurting was never an option, and he'd always known that if things didn't work out they wouldn't be able to just go back to the way things used to be. It was one of the things that had terrified him most in the early days, the thought of losing their partnership and friendship by letting their relationship grow into something more.

He hadn't expected they'd be so...professional about it all. Clint wasn't coldly polite or anything else that might be completely out of character. He was just...professional. Competent and thorough and everything else Phil had always admired about him, but there wasn't that warmth and lazy familiarity Phil had grown used to. They communicated in a mature, adult manner, no squabbling or sniping. Phil suspected that to the outside world, to people who didn't know them, it didn't look liked anything had changed between them.

Most people didn't look into Clint's eyes, though, where the misery lurked every time Phil saw him. He couldn't feel happy that they were both miserable together because it hurt too much.

And there was a part of Phil that kept reminding himself that they hadn't actually _broken up_. This was just a break, some breathing room to let whatever bad luck they'd acquired work itself out. Except nobody ever took a break from a relationship and got back together so Phil was trying not to let himself believe they'd be the exception.

He turned off the main road onto a dirt track that led through the forest. The rough ground jolted Phil around despite his car's excellent suspension (according to at least four reviews he'd checked before purchasing) and he had to put all his concentration into steering safely down the narrow trail. Eventually it widened out into a clearing in front of a cabin and Phil pulled to a stop. There were no other cars around but it looked like there might be a motorbike covered with a tarpaulin propped next to the building. 

Phil approached the cabin warily. It seemed peaceful, surrounded by trees and lazy afternoon sunshine, but that only made him suspicious. A cabin in the middle of the woods miles from everything seemed an odd place for an information drop and the contact who'd sent him a message to meet here was someone he hadn't heard from in years.

The cabin door was slightly ajar and Phil stood outside it for a moment, listening intently. There was no sound from within. He quietly drew his sidearm, paused a moment to take a calming breath and then kicked the door open.

There was nobody inside the main room. Phil took it in at a glance: small kitchen nook straight ahead, living area to his right with the furniture askew, both empty.

There were two doors to his left. The first led to a tiny bathroom, little more than a toilet and a shower stall. The second led to a bedroom where a double bed took up most of the space. Phil checked it quickly, even looking under the bed, but it was empty.

He was considering a quick look through the drawers of the only other piece of furniture in the room, a narrow bedside cabinet, when he heard a quiet scuffing sound. Phil silently moved back to the door, flattening himself against the wall beside it, and waited a moment. A barely audible creak sounded, as though someone had stepped lightly on a loose floorboard, and Phil took a slow, careful breath.

Of course, absolutely the last person he expected to see when he shouldered the door open and trained his gun on the intruder was Clint Barton.

Clint looked as surprised to see him as Phil felt. Twigs and pine cones scattered as Clint reached for a sidearm he wasn't carrying and Phil tried not to smile at the sheepish expression on Clint's face.

"So, this is awkward," Clint said after a moment.

Phil lowered his gun slightly and frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, I was here first," Clint protested. "I think I'm allowed to ask what the fuck you're doing here."

"I'm the one holding a gun."

Clint shrugged. "You're not going to shoot me."

Phil hesitated and then conceded defeat, flicking on the safety and shoving the gun back in his shoulder rig. "Not this time, anyway."

For a moment Clint gave him a crooked grin then he seemed to realise they didn't do this with each other right now - joke and smile and flirt - and the smile bled away to be replaced with a frown.

"So, why _are_ you here, boss?" Clint asked. "Pretty sure I didn't tell anyone this is where I was headed. Are you following me?"

Phil shook his head. "I received word from an old informant. This was the location they gave me for a meeting."

Clint narrowed his eyes slightly. "Old informant, huh? I'm going to kill her."

"Kill who?"

"Natasha."

"Why?"

Clint crouched and began collecting up the pine cones and twigs he'd dropped. Phil couldn't decide whether he wanted to be curious or tactically uninterested in why Clint was carrying woodland detritus around the cabin but he had a feeling he'd be finding out whether he wanted to or not, so he bent to help.

"Did your contact talk to you?" Clint asked. "As in, did you hear his voice when he was setting up the meet?"

Phil started to see where the questions were going and he sighed. "No, the arrangements were made through other means. You think Natasha faked it to get me up here?"

"You think there's any chance she didn't?"

"Why would she do that?" Phil asked.

Clint straightened up, his hands filled with bits of forest rubbish, and he led the way across the cabin to a metal bowl that had been placed in the centre of the living area. A rug had been pushed aside and the sofa and chairs that probably normally formed a cosy grouping had been pushed back against the walls. The bowl rested on the bare wood of the floor and someone - most likely Clint, Phil decided - had drawn chalk symbols around it. Clint dropped the cones and twigs into the bowl and Phil did the same with his handful.

"Can you make some coffee while I finish up in here?" Clint asked without looking at Phil.

Phil frowned. "Will I get a full explanation if I do?"

"Yes," Clint said simply.

There was an air of distraction around Clint, as though he'd already shifted his focus and dismissed Phil from his mind. He was usually almost hyper-aware of everything around him, it was part of what made him so good at his job, but Phil could almost feel Clint closing down and drawing into himself. 

It was unnerving. Unsettling.

Phil watched as Clint gracefully sat down, careful not to smudge the chalk on the floor. He poured something out of a velvet bag into the bowl and closed his eyes. Clint had never done well at meditation despite several attempts to learn and he'd always claimed that the only way he could do it was with a bow in his hand and a target in front of him. Maybe he'd just needed the right motivation because the expression on Clint's face and the total inward concentration were as close to meditation as Phil had even seen Clint achieve. Phil hesitated for a long moment, waiting to see what would happen next, before leaving Clint to it and crossing the room to the small kitchen area. He'd find out what was happening soon enough, he was sure.

Whoever had built this cabin had been aiming for practicality rather than comfort. The main area of the cabin was open-plan with the kitchen in a nook off the living area. A sturdy wooden table and matching chairs took up most of the kitchen's floor space and Phil could easily see that two people cooking together would be constantly tripping over each other. The coffee machine sat on a counter next to the microwave. There was a bag of coffee next to it so Phil set about measuring out grounds and filling the reservoir, trying to ignore the silent presence in the living area.

He flicked the switch to start the coffee brewing and turned to lean back against the counter. Clint was still sitting on the floor and he seemed to be muttering under his breath now. The air in the cabin was filled with the scent of pine and something subtler, earthier, that Phil couldn't quite trace. Phil drew in a deeper breath, trying to isolate the scent, and felt some of the tension that had been building since he arrived begin to drain away. He wasn't really aware that he was sinking into a half-trance; everything just seemed to become a little fuzzy at the edges and he couldn't seem to make himself worry about that.

Blue flames suddenly rose from the bowl, releasing another wave of soothing scents into the air and Phil inhaled deeply. The flames slowly shifted colour, from blue to green and then shading into red before returning to a deep blue that felt cool and cleansing to Phil's eyes. He didn't notice the coffee machine's quiet bleep when it finished brewing, he was too busy floating in a quiet cloud of total calm.

It was nice there, in that bubble of uncaring. Phil was vaguely aware that he'd been worried and unhappy not long ago, but it didn't really matter now. Everything was distant and cloudy and completely relaxed.

Phil didn't know how long he floated there, in that vague and uncaring state. The flames slowly died down and as they went out he blinked, feeling as though he was waking up from a dream he couldn't quite remember. His knees felt stiff, though, so he must have been leaning up against the counter for a while.

There was a quiet sigh from the living area and Phil quickly turned around to get some mugs down from the cupboards overhead. He could hear the quiet rustling as Clint began moving around but Phil deliberately kept his eyes on the task of finding mugs and setting them carefully on the counter. 

Clint was probably standing up and stretching out stiff muscles. Phil could picture it: the way Clint's t-shirt would ride up and show a couple of inches of skin as he reached overhead, the way he'd flex his spine to work out the kinks, the look on Clint's face as aches of tension released and bled away. For years Phil hadn't really paid attention because it was just something Clint did when he'd held one position for too long. Now there was this _thing_ between them and his mind kept pointing out the parallels between Clint's stretching routine and the way he'd arched into Phil's hands when they were kissing on his sofa.

That was a direction he needed to keep his mind away from so Phil took a calming breath and began carefully pouring coffee into the mugs he'd found.

He heard Clint's footsteps approaching, which meant Clint wanted him to hear because Clint could move silently when he needed to, so Phil wasn't completely surprised when a warm hand dropped onto his shoulder. Or at least, he didn't startle enough to spill the coffee although the pot knocked against one of the mugs with a loud clink noise. Finishing the task, getting just the right amount of coffee in the mugs, suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world and Clint waited patiently until it was done and the pot was back on its warming plate.

Then Clint tugged gently on Phil's shoulder, pulling him around so they were face to face and closer than they'd been in weeks. Phil could see the stubble on Clint's chin and the hint of dark shadows under his eyes.

Eyes that seemed to search Phil's face for a long, long moment, looking for something with an intensity that sent shivers down Phil's spine.

"Can I kiss you?" Clint asked without even a hint of a smile.

"Is that really a good idea?" Phil asked, fighting to keep his voice calm and bland even though he was feeling anything but calm. "We're supposed to be taking a break. Kissing seems like an...inappropriate action in that light."

"It's an experiment," Clint said, still without changing expression. "Just trust me for a minute. Please?"

There were a dozen good reasons why Phil should say no - their current relationship status was only one of them - but he slowly nodded anyway. One kiss couldn't make things worse than they already were, he reasoned.

Clint waited for a moment, his eyes still locked onto Phil's, before he closed the distance between them. It was a strangely cautious kiss, as though Clint was worried that Phil didn't want this. Their lips barely brushed together before Clint pulled back slightly with a frown.

There was no thought involved in what happened next: Phil hooked his hand behind Clint's neck and pulled him into a kiss, their teeth and noses clashing awkwardly for a moment until Clint tilted his head slightly and then it all suddenly _worked_. Phil had been trying not to think about kissing Clint for the last two weeks because it was impossible to keep his professional distance if he remembered the softness of Clint's lips and the way his breath hitched slightly when Phil sucked on his lower lip.

Now he didn't know how he'd been able to push those memories away. Clint was everything he remembered and he couldn't get enough. The hair at the base of Clint's neck was soft against Phil's fingertips and he let his other hand drift to Clint's hip, pulling him closer. He'd tried so hard not to remember how warm and solid Clint's body was and he couldn't resist flexing his fingers against the rough fabric of Clint's jeans, feeling the muscle shifting as Clint pushed forward.

Clint licked against his lips and Phil sighed as he opened his mouth to allow Clint in. The kiss was like a sudden flame and Phil got lost in it, in the slick warmth and quiet groans and the heat tightening in his belly.

The counter was digging into Phil's back and somewhere in the back of his head a small voice was trying to tell him this was a bad idea, they needed to stop, this was going to get out of control if they carried on. It was drowned out by other, more urgent sensations: Clint's hands moving restlessly up and down Phil's back; the hard length nudging at Phil's hip; the quiet noise Clint made when Phil slipped a hand under the hem of his t-shirt and splayed his fingers across Clint's skin.

It was the need for air that finally forced them apart. Clint buried his face in Phil's neck for a moment and Phil closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on getting his breathing under control. That wasn't easy to do with Clint still wrapped around him, but Phil managed somehow.

"Was your experiment successful?" he asked when Clint's harsh panting started to slow.

Clint lifted his head and Phil missed the warmth against his neck immediately. He opened his eyes and met Clint's gaze steadily, leaving nothing hidden. There was a warm smile on Clint's face now and Phil felt the corners of his mouth trying to twitch into an answering one.

"You could say that," Clint said as his smile acquired a hint of a smirk.

"What were you trying to prove?"

"That you still want me?" Clint said.

There was a note of uncertainty in his voice that was at odds with his smile.

Phil frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

Clint started to move away and Phil resisted, wrapping his arms around Clint's waist to keep him exactly where he was. It wasn't going to make calm, rational thought easy but if Clint was worried that Phil didn't want him, then Phil was going to make sure he didn't stay in doubt about that for long. It only took a moment for Clint give in. His hands slipped down to rest on Phil's hips, their warmth seeping through the fabric of Phil's jacket and pants, and pressed close again.

"Remember how I said it felt like something didn't want us together?" Clint asked.

"I do," Phil said slowly.

"Apparently I wasn't totally crazy."

Phil felt his eyebrows rising. "You weren't?"

"You could sound a little less shocked."

"I probably could," Phil agreed.

"I'm starting to wonder why I'm putting so much work into doing this."

"I've been wondering that for months," Phil said and he shrugged. "I'm not exactly-"

His words were cut off by Clint leaning in for a quick, fierce kiss.

"You're exactly everything I want," Clint said firmly. "That's not up for debate, OK?"

It was suddenly difficult to speak or even breathe evenly so all Phil could do was nod and hope he didn't look as poleaxed as he felt.

"Jesus, Phil, I just did magic and crazy shit because I want this to work," Clint said. "If that's not...how do you not...*magic*, Phil. You know how much I hate the Harry Potter crap. That's how much I love you."

Phil had to clear his throat a couple of times before he could speak around the lump that was trying to suffocate him. "You love me?"

"You hadn't figured that out before?"

"I didn't want to assume anything." His voice sounded thick and hoarse and he couldn't clear it. "I'd hoped you felt the same way I did, but-"

Clint beamed at him and swooped in for another quick kiss. "Magic, Phil. I let people do magic around me. For you."

"You still haven't explained _why_ you had to."

"You were cursed. Literally."

"I was cursed," Phil echoed.

"With chaos and destruction following in your wake, according to the sorcerer Nat took me to," Clint said. "Weird guy but he knows his stuff. Doctor Strange. Have you heard of him?"

"SHIELD has a file on him," Phil said thoughtfully. "It's not very comprehensive."

"I'm not surprised." Clint grinned. "He seems like the kind of person nobody knows much about until they need him. I don't want to know how Tasha found him. Two days ago she snuck into my bedroom before dawn and threatened to cut my balls off if I didn't go with her. She practically threw me at his feet."

"We considered consulting with him when we had that outbreak of magic users last summer," Phil said. "Director Fury was...reluctant."

"Yeah, about last summer. We probably should have called Strange in back then."

"Really?" Phil raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Clint's hands tightened on Phil's hips for a moment before he relaxed and sighed. "According to Doctor Strange, you've been cursed for a while now. Probably since the summer. Remember that sorceress who was recreating the ten plagues? You threw salt on her and put her in a headlock while Thor did something to her spellbook?"

"I remember."

"Doctor Strange is pretty sure she cursed you as some kind of whacked out vengeance thing. He visited her and pretty much got her to confess."

"Why me?"

Clint shrugged. "You were the human with the bag of salt. Thor's a demi-god. Who would you pick if you only had a few seconds before the anti-magic shackles went on and a fuckton of pissed off to work through?"

"When you say cursed..."

"Chaos and destruction," Clint repeated firmly. "And apparently the curse picked me as the focus of all the weirdness, which is why we've been having such crappy luck every time we try to go on a date."

"We managed a few dates without problems," Phil protested. "Those evenings in my apartment-"

"Nat checked out the stats," Clint said with a wry smile. "You don't want to know how many bizarre accidents happened in the three blocks around your apartments those nights."

"I don't?"

"You don't."

"So what I saw earlier, that was you breaking the curse," Phil said.

"Sort of." Clint gestured back at the bowl of ashes. "We did most of the curse breaking yesterday. Nat and her friend told me this bit was supposed to clear out some kind of residue in our auras. Most of it went over my head: I just stood where they told me to and read stuff off cards and waved the burning herbs around. I'm starting to think we've been set up today because they said it was fine if you weren't here when I did this but here you are anyway."

"What was your original plan, if I hadn't been sent up here?" Phil asked.

"Do the spell, go home, wait a couple of weeks and then maybe ask you out for coffee and see what happened. Nat must have thought I'd chicken out."

Phil thought about it carefully. There was still that odd mixture of hope and caution in Clint's eyes, as though he half-expected something to go wrong even though the curse had been removed.

The curse that had been cast sometime last summer.

Probably not long before Phil's first encounter with ropes and a vat of acid.

Oh.

"You're afraid that all this," Phil tightened his hands on Clint's waist briefly, "might have come from the curse, just because we started flirting a couple of weeks after Doctor Strange thinks it was set."

Clint lifted one shoulder in an uncomfortable shrug. "I've been flirting with you for years. You never flirted back before that."

"Huh."

"What does 'huh' mean?" Clint asked.

"It means, I didn't realise you were flirting with _me_ specifically for a long time."

Clint stared at him for a long moment. "You thought I flirted with everyone?"

"Of course not," Phil said quickly. "Well, maybe sometimes. I've never been very good at telling when people are interested in me."

There was something warm and a tiny bit broken in Clint's voice when he said, "It was only ever for you."

Phil opened his mouth to say something but the words got stuck somewhere in his throat. He tried again and then gave up and tugged Clint into a slow, thorough kiss.

When Clint began trailing sucking, open mouthed kisses over his jaw and down his throat, Phil hummed quietly and then a thought struck him.

"The curse saw you as a source of chaos and destruction," he said, sucking in a quick breath when Clint's teeth scraped his skin lightly. "Is that why you suddenly got all those extra excuses to flirt with me?"

Clint groaned and lifted his head. "I was hoping wouldn't notice that part."

"The curse initially started out by encouraging us because you're the most chaotic thing it could add to my life," Phil said and he completely failed to suppress his grin.

"You're not going to forget that any time soon, are you?"

"Probably not."

"How about if I do this?"

Clint's kiss left Phil breathless again and he gasped when Clint ground up against him.

"If you think you can use physical affection to make me conveniently forget things," Phil began, "you're-"

"Not far off the mark?"

"I take it the break is over?" Phil asked.

Clint grinned. "What do you think?"

"I think your hand is in the wrong place if we're still on a break."

Phil rolled his eyes when Clint took a firmer grip on his ass cheek but he didn't try to move Clint's hand.

"We're not on a break," Clint confirmed. "Unless you want to be and I'm pretty sure you've been kissing _me_ a few times here, which also seems inappropriate if we're still on a break."

Phil had been feeling confident the break was over since Clint kissed him, but it was still a relief to hear it said out loud. Maybe relationship breaks didn't usually end well, but then again most couples didn't have curses to overcome.

If he thought about it that way, it all felt slightly unreal.

"So, what happens next?" Clint asked. "If you want to go back to the go slow plan, I'm fine with that. I was going to take you out for coffee before Nat interfered. We can do that if you want. Seems like people usually need to take a step back after a break and we should probably talk..."

He trailed away as Phil cupped his face between both hands and slowly drew him in for another kiss. Clint made a sound suspiciously like a whimper and then he was kissing Phil fiercely and everything was suddenly heat and fire and hands trying to touch everywhere at once.

It occurred to Phil that there was a bed in the next room, a wide soft bed with sheets and pillows, and he'd wanted this moment to be right and special. He reluctantly pulled out of the kiss to say something but Clint nuzzled the skin just below his ear before sucking a kiss there and Phil couldn't think anymore.

He slid a hand down to the hem of Clint's t-shirt and tugged at it, managing to get it pushed up a little but Clint stubbornly refused to raise his arms long enough to let Phil pull it off. He was too busy working at Phil's belt and Phil decided he wasn't going to argue with that plan.

It was as though all the urgency from the months of restraint and constant interruption was being released at once. Every small sound of pleasure Clint made just fanned the flames higher and Phil was surprised to hear himself groaning out loud when they finally managed to push pants and underwear aside enough for their heated skin to touch. Somehow Phil's tie and shirt collar had been loosened and Clint mouthed at the junction between his shoulder and throat as they found a rhythm together.

"Should we move-" Phil tried to say.

"You really want to stop now?" Clint mumbled against his skin.

"There's a bed-"

"Pretty sure we can try that out next time."

The counter was still digging into Phil's back, his knees were starting to ache from the angle he'd been standing at and it was all incredibly uncomfortable, but Clint's hand was firm and exactly right on his cock, Clint was rubbing frantically against his hip, and he didn't want to stop. The quiet, almost desperate whine Clint uttered a moment later undid him and Phil came with a low groan. Apparently that was all Clint needed to follow him into a shuddering climax and then Phil's legs gave out and they tumbled together into an inelegant sprawl on the cold tile floor.

They lay there for a while, catching their breath. It wasn't the storybook afterglow in bed Phil had half-imagined: they were messy, still mostly dressed, and the tiles were chilly against his bare thighs. Then again, it also hadn't been the slow, drawn-out first time he'd planned but Clint looked sweaty and smug and Phil had never been more in love with him.

After a little while Clint started laughing. Phil lazily poked his side and raised an eyebrow.

"I kept expecting Thor or Stark to burst in before we finished," Clint said.

Phil shuddered. "Don't even joke about it."

"Your personal nightmare, being caught with your pants around your ankles and my hand on your dick?"

"Something like that."

***

Later, when the discomfort of the floor began to outweigh the laziness of the afterglow, they debated whether to drive back to the city or spend the night in the cabin. The sun had set and Phil didn't relish the idea of following the dirt track in the dark.

He was in the bathroom trying to make himself look a little less like he'd had a hand job in a kitchen without even taking his shirt off when Clint yelled for him. Phil wiped futilely at his shirt one last time and then followed the sound of Clint's voice into the bedroom.

Clint was already stripping out of his jeans and there was a wide grin on his face as he nodded to the bedside table. "I don't know about you, but I'm taking that as a sign we're supposed to stay here. Found it in the drawer."

He stripped down to his skin and slid into the bed, holding the sheets up invitingly. Phil eyed the basket filled with a slightly intimidating number of condoms and tubes of lube. He was torn between embarrassment that someone (probably Natasha, he didn't want to know) had anticipated them and relief that the decision had been taken away from him.

"There are other explanations for that," Phil said, although he was already unbuttoning his shirt.

"Name three," Clint said, his eyes fixed on Phil's fingers.

"This cabin could belong to someone with an adventurous sex life and we're trespassing." Phil carefully draped his shirt over the back of a chair in the corner and pulled off his undershirt. "The last person who stayed here forgot a few things when they cleared out." He folded his pants and put them on the chair, stuffing his socks into his shoes and sliding them under it. "We've accidentally stumbled into an abandoned out of town brothel."

He crossed the room and crawled under the covers. Clint immediately pulled and rolled so he was on top, propping himself up on his elbows so Phil had to look up at him. It was probably a bad idea to let Clint get his own way in bed so early in their relationship, but all that warm, naked skin against his was sending happy signals through Phil's body and he hooked an ankle round Clint's leg instead of protesting.

"Or we're supposed to spend the night here," Clint said, "where nobody will find us and we'll actually have some privacy for maybe the only time in our lives."

"Or it could be that," Phil agreed and stretched up to kiss Clint.

***

Phil felt lazy and achy in all the right ways the next morning. The bathroom was much too small for any kind of shared shower but watching a naked Clint wander around the bedroom gathering up clothes before he padded out to claim the first shower was even better than Phil had imagined. He had a feeling there were going to be mornings where it was a struggle not to drag Clint back to bed if walking around naked was a regular thing for him.

Not that Phil was going to complain about it. He was looking forward to it.

By the time Phil had finished his own shower, Clint was in the kitchen. He must have raided the fridge because he was standing by the stove wearing only his jeans, stirring something in a pan. There were a couple of hickeys on Clint's back, the bruises standing out against his tanned skin, and Phil tried very hard not to feel smugly pleased that he'd put them there.

He completely failed.

"We were definitely set up," Clint said without turning around. "I found fresh eggs in the fridge with a note from Tasha on top."

"She thought of everything," Phil said.

"And bacon. She thought of bacon as well. I made coffee."

There was a mug on the counter next to Clint, half full and still steaming. Clint raised his eyebrows when Phil took a grateful gulp and then he smiled and leaned in for a coffee-flavoured kiss. Sharing a mug had never really been something Phil liked until he'd started trying to coffee-date Clint. Now it felt like a sign that things were going to be alright.

They'd nearly finished eating breakfast, mostly in companionable silence, when Clint looked up and said, "You should move in with me."

Phil blinked.

"I know, it's skipping a few steps," Clint said quickly. "A lot of steps. Just hear me out. A lot of the shit that happened to us was down to the curse, all the destruction and bizarre coincidences and weirdness, but our jobs interfered a lot too and that's not going to stop. So I was thinking, if we were living together then we'd be going home together and waking up together and we'd actually see each other sometimes. I really liked all the official dating, don't get me wrong, but when we're only doing something together once or twice a week and all our dates get called off for work...well, it sucks and I don't want to go on like that anymore."

Phil carefully set down his knife and fork and looked at Clint. There was a carefully hopeful expression in Clint's eyes. Living together was definitely skipping over a few steps in the go slow plan. Phil had a feeling there were supposed to be weekends together and vacations and other testing-the-water kinds of activities.

"Why do you assume we'll move into your place?" he asked, letting a small smile show.

Clint snorted. "Please. My place is three times the size of yours and I've got my own shooting range."

"You've also got Tony Stark two floors above you."

"JARVIS loves me so he keeps my floor Stark-free."

"You live with a herd of superheroes."

"I've got a huge tub with those jet things." Clint waggled his eye brows ridiculously. "It's fucking amazing. My shower's big enough to share and I've had this fantasy about blowing you in there since I moved in."

Phil choked on a sip of coffee and Clint snickered.

"Sounds good?" Clint asked innocently.

"I'm open to persuasion," Phil allowed.

Apparently Clint's persuasion methods involved straddling Phil's lap so he could kiss Phil into submission and then licking and sucking at Phil's neck and collarbone for good measure. If this was going to be Clint's way of talking him into things in the future, Phil wasn't going to mind at all. He tipped his head back slightly and unbuttoned Clint's fly, slipping a hand inside onto his ass and sighing when he found bare skin, just to make sure Clint knew how much he appreciated the persuasion tactics.

Which, of course, was when the cabin door burst open to admit Stark, Thor and Steve Rogers in full uniform. Thor held Mjolnir high over his head, Steve was brandishing his shield and Stark's hands were raised with the glowing repulsors standing out bright and intimidating.

There was total, frozen silence for a long moment. Phil tried to suppress a wince because he could picture exactly what they were seeing: a shirtless Clint in his lap, his own shirt open to display the marks Clint had sucked onto his chest, no doubt at all about what they'd been doing together. Not if they noticed where his hand was.

He closed his eyes and vaguely hoped he was still dreaming.

The sound of a camera clicking forced his eyes open again and he glared at Stark, who had lifted his face plate and was now smirking at both of them.

A cellphone started ringing before anyone could say anything. Clint stretched back to grab his phone off the kitchen table and answer it without looking away from the three slightly embarrassed superheroes facing them.

"Hi Nat," Clint said. "Yeah, they're here. We could have done with a bit more of a heads-up. Maybe you could call _before_ they arrive next time?"

He snapped the phone closed and settled a little more firmly onto Phil's lap. Phil thought about pulling his hand out of Clint's jeans, but if Clint was going to brazen this one out then so could he. So he rested his other hand on Clint's thigh and met Stark's eyes with a calm glare.

"You didn't leave a note," Steve said weakly, his face bright red. "We were worried."

"Really," Clint said. "How did you find us then?"

"GPS in your phone," Stark said. "I thought you might need our help. Again."

"We don't," Clint said flatly.

"I can see that now." Stark grinned. "Congratulations."

"This is a cause for celebration!" Thor boomed.

"Pretty sure they've been doing that already," Stark said with a knowing smirk.

Phil concentrated very hard on not blushing.

"We should leave," Steve said awkwardly.

"I just need another picture for the album," Stark protested.

Steve turned his most forbidding, disappointed glare on Stark and for once, the man drooped a little and gave up. He even closed the door quietly behind him as the little group left and a moment later, Phil heard the familiar whine of repulsors and crackle of thunder as they all flew away.

"Guess we don't need to work out how to tell them about us," Clint said after a short silence.

"Why did Stark take photographs of us?" Phil asked.

"You don't know about the bet?" Clint draped his arms around Phil's neck, obviously perfectly comfortable to stay right where he was. "He's had this thing going on with Pepper for months. She refused to believe you were with me without proof, Stark's been going nuts trying to catch us at something she can't explain away."

Phil stared. "Why?"

"Fuck knows. You really hadn't heard?"

Phil shook his head. He couldn't decide whether he should be insulted on Clint's behalf that Pepper thought it was so unlikely he'd date Clint or relieved that he'd been completely unaware there had been a bet until it was too late.

"Huh." Clint looked thoughtful. "Guess she's got her proof now. Wonder if I can get Nat to steal a copy of the photo?"

"Why?"

Clint grinned and leaned closer, until his lips just barely brushed Phil's as he spoke. "To hang on our bedroom wall where we can see it on the bad days. I figure sometimes we might need reminding that we get mornings like this as well as the kind with explosions, weirdness, and no sleep."

Phil smiled against Clint's mouth as they kissed and vowed to get a copy from Pepper. She owed him a few favours and this seemed like a good use of one of them.

Then he forgot all about photographs and future plans because he had Clint in his arms and in that moment, the world was perfect.


End file.
